It was the day after I accepted the challenge. I crawled out of bed 15 minutes late, wobbled toward the bathroom to take my shower, and then rushed my morning routine in an effort to arrive at work almost at time. My workplace is exactly a 5-minute walk from my apartment. Sad truth is that when I’m tired and lazy in the morning, I often wait until I only have two minutes to get to work and I take my car instead of walking. If I could pull myself out of bed earlier I would walk each day. Or at least the vast majority of the time. I might drive in rain. However, it’s about half and half right now, and that particular day was an “I’m supposed to be at work in a minute and a half!” day. So I bolted out my door, fled down my steps, trotted toward the street, and stopped suddenly at the sight of my car. Insert *jaw dropping open*.
I was dumbfounded. I called work, told them I would be late, and basically panicked over the phone to my co-worker (I don’t know what to do! What should I do? What do you think I should do!?). Then I saw a note stuck under my windshield wiper.
First I assumed it was a ticket – which only added to the panic. I don’t really have the best relationship with PD in this town. But I mentally checked off every possible reason a cop could issue a ticket and cleared myself of that idea. I had done nothing to deserve a ticket.
Then I imagined a short note from the perpetrator stating something like, “Sorry I ruined your car. I don’t have insurance, so I had to go. Hope you get everything straightened out!”
I waddled my tired, but now terrified, body over to the car and grabbed the note. It was from a police officer stating that the person who backed into my car had reported the accident and was basically doing everything in his power to correct his mistake. A police report would be complete and available the next day. The name and number of the man who hit my car was also in the note. Relief washed over me.
I walked to work – feeling grateful for this unknown person’s integrity and also for the fact that I can walk to work.
On the way to my cubicle, I stopped in my friend’s office to show him my pictures and relate my morning’s adventures. After listening to my explanation, he looks at me with eyebrows raised and says, “Maybe this happened for a reason. This guy sounds honest. Maybe you two were meant to meet…”
That was a guy talking. I thought women were supposed to be the romantics.
By lunchtime, two other coworkers had also suggested I date this random stranger who damaged my car. Might I add that I had not even seen this guy – had no idea how old he was – who he was – why he was on my street (which is kind of known for drug trafficking…) – if he is single – if he is straight – etc.
But apparently none of those details matter. He is obviously honest. So I’m told I should date him. Amazing how a wrecked car can turn into a matchmaking event in a cat lady’s life.